


Clouded

by spacehopper



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Ardyn twists with words and hands, and Prompto can't escape him.





	Clouded

Clouds rolled in over the plains, bringing a chill to the otherwise blistering day. They’d only arrived in Lestallum an hour ago, but as soon as Prompto had noticed the odd weather, he’d practically sprinted towards the best spot for a picture, trailed with some reluctance by the guys. But if they could wait around while Noct spent hours fishing and Ignis hunted down the perfect ingredient, they could stand still long enough for Prompto to snap the perfect shot. 

He was still trying to get it when Noct finally spoke up. 

“Hey, Prompto?” Noct said. 

“Hmm?” His eyes were fixed on the camera, flipping through the pictures he’d been taking. Lestallum always had great views, but the lighting today was perfect, the sky split sun and shadow.

“We’re going to head over to the market.” 

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Prompto said. 

He deleted a few more pictures that were blurry, poorly lit, or just duplicates, then turned back to the vista before him. Lightning struck in the distance.

“Did you guys see that?” The air was electric, and something sparked inside Prompto at the raw, deadly power of it all. But as he looked around, he realized he was alone. Right, they’d gone to the market. Well, didn’t matter, he’d catch them later. And maybe he could get a shot of the lightning to show them. 

It was as much chance as skill, getting that shot, so he focused his camera on the storm clouds, taking as many pictures as he could and hoping he’d get lucky. Thunder rumbled, and he almost thought he could feel the stone beneath his feet shaking. He focused his camera, waiting, breathless with anticipation.

Snap. He checked the photo. It was perfect, a jagged line cutting across the blackening sky.

Then a large hand seized his waist.

“Gladio?” he said, trying to quell a surge of fear. They were in Lestallum. There was no reason to worry. It was probably just Gladio trying to freak him out.

“Guess again,” a honeyed voice said into his ear. Prompto shivered.

“Ardyn.”

“Oh, second time’s the charm, it seems. But then I do like to think I’m quite memorable.” The hand skimmed lower, now cradling his hip. Promto froze. He could feel the heat of Ardyn’s body at his back, uncomfortably close. Ardyn had helped them so far, but there was something off with him. They all knew it. And he was the Chancellor of Niflheim on top of it. But if he were an ally, Prompto knew he couldn’t afford to jeopardize this. Maybe he was just being—friendly. Maybe it was different in Niflheim. 

Ardyn shifted against him, tugging him closer, his other hand coming to rest on Prompto’s chest, stroking him through the thin fabric of his shirt. He wanted to run, but something held him here. He felt lips brush against his neck.

“You are a lovely creature,” Ardyn said. “Prince Noctis was so lucky to find you.”

“Actually,” Prompto said with a shaky laugh, “I was the one who befriended him.”

“Did you now? How enterprising.” Ardyn’s hand slipped down to toy with the waist band of his jeans. Prompto found his mouth suddenly dry. “Considering your past.”

“My past?” Prompto tried to twist out of his grasp, but the arms encircling him tightened. 

“A commoner becoming part of the Crownsguard, and a close personal friend of the prince. How very unlikely.” Ardyn nuzzled his hair. Prompto could feel the dank heat of his breath on the back on his neck. He shuddered. But he didn’t struggle. Couldn’t struggle. “Just another cog in the machine, and yet you became important. Fascinating, really.”

Ardyn moved from his dangerous downward course, and Prompto almost sighed in relief. Then he grabbed Prompto’s wrist, thumbing the band that covered it. The wrist with the strange tattoo. Did Ardyn know? His parents, they’d never been able to explain. But why would Ardyn know? _He’s the Chancellor of Niflheim._ Prompto shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. That didn’t mean anything. It was a coincidence.

He licked his lips.

“You can ask, you know.” Ardyn’s voice was soothing, like Prompto was a small, frightened animal. Maybe he was. Maybe he always had been, and that was why he’d sought them out. Like attracted like. “I’ll even tell you the truth. Everything you’ve always wanted to know.”

Where he’d come from, and why. All the questions his parents could never answer. That was what Ardyn was offering. But at what cost?

His heart rabbited in his chest. He felt Ardyn smile into his hair, and a finger slip under the band to caress the bar code beneath.

No.

“Is there something you wanted?” Prompto asked. His voice was remarkably steady, if he did say so himself.

“Just a moment of your time, dear boy,” Ardyn said. “And I rather think I’ve had it.” He pulled away from Prompto, who stayed rooted on the spot. Maybe if he didn’t look, this hadn’t really happened. And the questions hammering in his head would quiet. And he could just be Prompto Argentum, for a little while longer.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around and pushing him against the wall. He hissed at the bruising force, hands scrabbling against rough stone to brace himself. Ardyn leaned in, and for a horrified second, Prompto thought Ardyn was going to kiss him.

“I hope you got the picture,” Ardyn said, smiling. A finger trailed slowly over Prompto’s cheek, stopping on his lips. Prompto swallowed. His tongue brushed against the finger, and tasted ash and ruin.

Then Ardyn turned on his heel, striding off into the crowd without a backward glance. 

Prompto trembled, clutching his camera in sweaty hands and watching the crowd for a sick handful of minutes. A drop fell, then another, hitting his head like bullets.

He looked back at the horizon. The storm had come in, and the sky was black and clouded. The wind tugged at his clothes, and he pulled his vest close, trying to draw some comfort from the meager protection it offered. Maybe he’d just go to the hotel, catch up with the guys later. 

He needed to escape the rain.


End file.
